Of Stonehorn
by Rhyia
Summary: These are the tales and stories documenting five years of play time on Shadow Council, Moon Guard, Wyrmrest Accord and Thorium Brotherhood servers in the game World of Warcraft.
1. Cataclysm

AN: I am slowly reordering and updating the Stonehorn stories. The player behind Xozin/Chrynus/Jaseraph and a horde of other characters in the stories passed away on Nov 2, 2011. Despite that I know he would hate for our stories, our RP to end, even if Stonehorn only exists in one person now.

* * *

Broken, shattered, sundered, destroyed...

In the end _**Cataclysm**_ was a good name for it. It took our world by storm and we really should have expected it. More the fools we. How could our Mages not notice. What blinded our Shaman to the earths warnings? Was it just that we did not wish to see?

Whatever our excuse it destroyed what few bonds Stonehorn had left. Perhaps that was its intent. Or should I say 'his'? Yes, his is far more accurate for as Alexstraza is the female among females, he is the male of males. I cannot say woman or man for despite assuming those guises they are not man and woman but dragon. More then that they are Aspects. The greatest of all dragons and they are why our world cries in agony.

I who was once named Grajaad put pen to paper again and transcribe what once was, is now and soon will come. Broken we are still Stonehorn. Eternal. Perhaps that is why I feel the need to continue the histories. Perhaps it is only because Xozin is gone. Not in body no, but the spirit that was him slipped the ties that held him tethered to flesh. Even with all the magics and gifts we had. Even with the necrotic spells of the plague there was no way for us to keep his spirit tethered.

In the end the Cataclysm broke not just the land but also the last tie that kept us as Stonehorn. Seeing my love's body staring with blank eyes drove us all apart. Xozin is gone. His shell remains and it is all Neltharions fault. Earthwarder gone insane and with his insanity the very earth is warped. One could say my sanity is slipping as well, however it will remain long enough to scribe the lore.

Those of you who read this chronicle remember that life is far too short to live in stories. Far too short...


	2. Of Stonehorn

The first tale was actually scribed by Mharin's mate. If only we had known then what we discovered later. How shameful it was to find that Tosui, a Shaman, A Tauren Bull was nothing more then a foul Grimtotem, a worthless centaur in the guise of a loving clansman. Ah well... Here is the tale he scribed with all its inaccuracies. ~Grajaad

* * *

Many moons have passed since the new tribe of Stonehorn came to be. But its only survivors have passed the oral story, which is also part of its tradition, to the new tribe. I follow the steps of my previous life when I was a historian to record the many accounts of the beginning of the Stonehorn tribe, its downfall and its rebirth as the phthisis bird that is reborn from its own ashes... This is the account of many tales as Mharin and Rhyia, last true heirs to the Stonehorn tribe, handed them down to me:

"In the beginning there were the Tauren, and the Tauren were split in many tribes. Each tribe was proud to follow the ways of nature, the ways of Earth Mother. They were one and many, many and one. She who knows the meaning of this may bless us and forever guide us in her teachings.

The Tauren have always had a special connection with the feminine, its druids and shamans guiding the people in times of peace and its fearsome warriors protecting its people in times of war. The ways of Earth Mother are to live and let live, to be like water and follow the path that is put before you. Female Tauren have always been the leaders of our tribes, strong in connection with Earth Mother some were touched in the womb, and separated to lead and guide. Those were given the title of Chieftess and would lead the people in times of peace. In times of war Tauren Males would step forward and take leadership to provide their strength and determination to the task at hand.

To be a leader of the Tauren was always a hard life, one without rewards, without regrets, without remorse. But it was also the biggest honor a Tauren could ever be bestowed upon and Earth Mother herself gave it to them. The Tauren do not believe in hereditary rights, as they believe that each moment requires different wisdoms, each epoch different leaders. Whenever a Chieftess or Chieftain lay dead, a new one was elected through rites of prophecy, through quests of wisdom Earth Mother would give them all so a new leader could be forged from the ashes of the old one.

The Stonehorn tribe was always striving to increase the ways of conscientia, to acquire more knowledge and to commune with it. To know is to live, the elders used to say, and to live is to search for more knowledge. Conscientia, Wisdom, Knowledge all those the Stonehornians excellently searched for. And that was also their downfall...

The Centaurs started to compete with Tauren all over their lands for resources. Most Tauren agreed that the Centaur and Tauren could live together, but the Centaur wanted all. The Centaur first approached the Stonehornians as friends, with promises of Centaur knowledge and fake gifts of friendship. For the first time in many times many moons the Stonehornians did not commune with Earth Mother and assumed that befriending the Centaur would only lead to years of peace and prosperity. How could those who want to share knowledge be evil was the reasoning of the elders.

Unbeknownst to they the Centaur were preparing a massive attack against the Tauren an attack that started on the Stonehorn grounds and spread quickly through all other tribes. Many tribes perished completely that fatidic day and the only reason the Stonehornians survived was the fact that the elders knew of a secret place where they could securely hide two calves. They did not have enough time to decide which ones though to save with the only certainty that they should be females as the tribe survives through its feminine. They quickly drew lots and attempted to commune with Earth Mother, but amidst the chaos and because of their initial failure to seek counseling with Earth Mother they were not able to achieve decisive results. War was drawing near and the Tauren fought bravely...

One by one they perished, slaughtered under the hoofs of an evil civilization the Stonehornians and many other Tauren ceased to exist that day and Earth Mother seemed to have abandoned them all. Amongst the sounds of metal clashing against metal, of baby calves' being murdered by hordes of Centaurs only one Tauren stood up and was able to finally understand what Earth Mother wishes were. The Tauren had gone through a wrong path but they would not cease to exist. They would be reborn not all tribes but those Earth Mother chose as hers would survive. The Stonehornians were too close to the heart of the Centaur attack and quickly disappeared one by one, meanwhile this elder which name is forever lost in the history of our tribe took two baby calves, Mharin and Rhyia, two sisters and as he laid them in their secluded place, protected only by Earth Mother there he prophesized: "Two they shall be, one as we are. Reborn again from destruction and pain our tribe to be restored with power greater than any other Tauren tribe has had so far. The eldest one to follow her heart, the youngest one to sacrifice for the new tribe. From her union strong Tauren shall be born, a warrior and a shaman and that shall be the sealing of this promise that Earth Mother shall touch them on their mother's womb. On their life time Earth Mother shall restore Stonehorn to its full power and beyond, and the Centaur shall be completely wiped out never a threat to the Stonehornians to be no more."

As she said those words, which the calves would never forget, she turned only to have her life taken by the sword of a Centaur Hoolkar, one of the fiercest elite forces all of the continents have seen so far. Her body fell over the location where the calves where hiding and as if unseen forces where protecting them from the Centaur the Centaur Scouts' hyenas searched high and low but the calves were never discovered. The Centaur moved on to fight more Tauren and attempt to destroy all their tribes, but Thraal and his forces arrived directed by Earth Mother and were able to force the Centaur back but only after a fierce battle where many orcs lost their lives.

Thraal gave Mulgore to the Tauren and at that point the remaining Tauren pledge their allegiance to Thraal and to the Horde. Mharin and Rhyia were discovered by Thraal himself later that same day, as he went to drink from the water of one of the wells on the location their tribe used to exist, and Thraal felt something as if directed by earth mother he walked down the well (Tauren wells sometimes have walkways where you can go down to the source of water) and there he discovered both Calves, cold and scared but still alive. Thraal quickly realized they were the only survivors of that fierce battle and knew that for them to be saved from amongst many others could only mean that they were somehow special to the Tauren, to that tribe. Thraal put them under the tutelage of one of the few remaining elders of the Tauren, a warrior of the stonehoof family and they were raised in the Tauren way at Mulgore.

Thus the legacy of the Stonehorn tribe was saved. Rhyia and Mharin quickly grew to be strong and fine Tauren Females, one a proud warrior the other a druid of its people. They quickly started their tribe again and many braves heard the call of Earth Mother and went on a pilgrimage to meet them and join their tribe. Many other prophecies have been told and fulfilled, some still to be, and many wars have been fought and won. The heroes of the tribe, its guardians chosen by Earth Mother herself and touched by her to protect the tribe until its fate and place in history can be secured."

This is the story of the stonehorn family as our leaders and elders passed it to me. Many more prophecies and tales there are to be written down, and as a faithful and loyal servant of Stonehorn I shall write them down as I see them and as I am told by those who live the adventures and events that are shaping our world.


	3. Of Stonehorn 2

Now unlike the last tale this was the true scribing of the Stonehorn. The 'unknown' elder that hid the two sisters was actually their father. There was no prophecy or tale of the future given at that point nor was it Thrall who found them. Perhaps Tosui took such liberties to impress Mharin for at the time of his scribing he had not yet been chosen by her and in fact could have lost her to a warrior from another tribe. ~ Grajaad

* * *

Many moons have passed since the new tribe of Stonehorn came to be and many more have passed since it dispersed upon the winds once again. But its only survivors passed the oral story, which is also part of its tradition, to first the new tribe and now to you as i now record the history of the tribe of Stonehorn, its downfall, rebirth and second fall. This is the account of many tales as Mharin and Rhyia, the last true heirs to the Stonehorn tribe, handed them down to me.

In the beginning there were the Tauren, and the Tauren formed many tribes. Each tribe was proud to follow the ways of nature, the ways of the Earthmother.

Many of the Tauren tribes had a special connection with the feminine, its Wisewomen guiding the tribe in times of peace and its fearsome warriors protecting its people in times of war. These tribes believed the way of the Earthmother was to live and let live, to be like water and follow the path placed before you. Female Taurens have always been the leaders of these tribes, strong in their connection to the Earthmother some were touched by her while still in the womb and seperated to lead and guide. Those were given the title of Chieftess and would lead the people in times of peace while in times of war Male Tauren would step forward and take leadership and use their strength and determination to keep the tribe safe.

To be a leader of the Tauren was a hard life. One without reward. One with many regrets and much remorse. It was also the biggest honor to be bestowed upon a Tauren and it was a honor bestowed only by the Earthmother herself. These Tauren tribes did not believe in hereditary rights. They believed that each moment required different wisdom, each time different leaders. Whenever a Chieftess or in war the Chieftain lay dead, a new one was elected through rites of prophecy. Through quests of wisdom the Earthmother would give them all just so a new leader could be forged from the ashes of the old.

The Stonehorn tribe was always striving to increase their lore, to aquire new knowledge and to commune with it. 'To know is to live' the elders used to say, 'and to live is to search for more knowledge.' Wisdom and knowledge were what the Stonehorn tribe searched for and it was this search that lead to thier downfall.

At this time the centaur tribes had grown and they were competing with the the Tauren for the lands resources. Many of these Tauren believed the tribes could live together in peace, but we now know the centaur wanted it all. The centaur first approached the Stonehorn tribe in friendship, with promises of centaur knowledge and fake gifts of friendship. For the first time the Stonehorn tribe did not commune with the Earthmother. They believed that only years of prosperity and peace would come from accepting the centaur as friends.

Unknown to the Stonehorn, the centaurs were planning a massive attack which would start on Stonehorn lands and carry over to the rest of the Tauren tribes. Many tribes perished that day, the few survivors of each tribe seeking refuge within the remaining tribes. Here the remaining Stonehorn elders drew lots and asked guidance from the Earthmother. Perhaps it was because of their failure to seek her council before, but they recieved no answer from her. The final battles of the war were drawing near and the Stonehorn felt they had to atone for forsaking her earlier.

Thus they fought. Slowly, bit by bit, the tribes were pushed from their lands and the Stonehorn fell. The elders tried hiding their calves but each time the hyenas trained by the centaurs sniffed them out and slaughtered the children and caretakers. On the morning of the final battle one hunter could not stand the elders choices any more. He alone took his children into the forest and there he found the abandoned den of some forest animal. Though it was a struggle, he managed to get his twin daughters safely inside. He covered the entrance with various foliage and as he turned to leave he was attacked by a patrolling group of centaurs. Overpowered he was killed and his dying body fell upon the entrance to the cave. The Earthmother herself must have reached forth her hand at that moment for the branches did not break and left it seeming as though the bank was solid. The centaurs called forth their hounds and had them search the area but again She must have reached forth and protected the children for the hyenas did not catch thier scent.

The horns of battle were sounded and the centaur left to fight. The battles that day were bloody and fierce. As the Tauren race was slowly destroyed there came from the east or perhaps the northeast, Thrall and his people. The orcs saved the Tauren that day and pacts of friendship were exchanged. All was well...

However one warrior, a female troll, felt the urge to wander and explore. In her explorations she came across the body of their father. Her curiosity led her to attempt to move the body and at her touch the branches finally gave way and the body slid to reveal two young terrified Tauren. That day the troll took them into her care, fighting those who would challenge her right to them. The remainder of the tauren were more than happy to have the children taken from their new lands. And so Mharin and Rhyia alone survive the tribe of Stonehorn. And they gather about them those they trust, those who are without family and claim them as their own.

Though the tale of the sisters does not end here, it is here i shall end. Perhaps another day i will relate what has come after but for now i am tired and this is enough. Blessings of the light, the Earthmother and Elune be with you...


	4. Of Rhyia

Now that you have seen the base story of the tribe it is time to see the stories of our people in further depth. While it would seem more appropriate to show you Mharin, I shall instead let you see Rhyia. Rhyia did not succumb to madness. She did not give up. Now she is trapped on some further layer of the waking dream. Do not worry my friends for she is not alone there. Our beloved Jalna'ar and little Noglytun managed to make the crossing with her.

* * *

Some people say you don't just smell blood. That instead you taste it in the air. As a child I never understood that. Never knew that you really could taste the scent of blood. The war against the centaurs changed that, not only for me but for many of my yearmates. That war stole so much from me and my sister. It drove our mother into arms other than my fathers and on the last day of that war it took my fathers life.

We are twins. Calves blessed by the Earthmother, at least that's what the elders said. I never noticed anything special growing up. My sister was forever bringing home plants and animals. Mother hated coming home to see one more of her findings. As she grew up her gift of finding new plants made her invaluable to the tribe. She brought them something new to learn and Earthmother knows, they were always after new knowledge.

But this is not about Mharin. *smiles* This is about me. I was my mother's bane, a real blemish on her reputation. Why you ask? Because I was clumsy. I was worse than clumsy. I tripped over everything imaginable. My hooves, my tail, even the grass. I'm pretty sure I even tripped over air a few times. It was so bad that when I was around nine cycles mother sent me to spend my days with the warriors in hopes that having so many sharp objects around would cure my clumsiness. *snorts* Hah! All it did was give Mharin more practice in sewing.

So as I grew even older I started slipping away from the camp. I followed my father when he went hunting. Poor father. How it must have hurt taking me along for I was forever angering animals by stumbling across their tails and smashing their dens. Father was always the one to pay the price though for he always jumped in to protect me. For around seven cycles things were well… and then came the centaurs.

Father never trusted them but no one paid attention to his words. He was only a hunter and mother led the council. Mother welcomed those foul beasts with open arms and gifts. A promise of peace she told us. We would live side by side and share our knowledge with each other. One thing the centaurs did was teach me to be graceful. From their arrows and spears came a lesson harder then any other. One, their chief's son, was very fond of trying to poke arrow holes in my hide.

That centaur gifted me with swiftness and strength. He, out of all of his fellows, taught me to dance with the Earthmother's own grace. *peels off her armor and raises the left side of her shirt* See this? *points to a jagged scar about a finger length long. A taurens finger length* This is what that centaur boy left me with. Had it not been for a jagged arrow shot into my chest by that boy father would have been taken by surprise when they turned on us.

Let's see… The day it happened I was actually out with Mhar helping her gather more plants. I had wandered close to the edge of the trees. *shakes head* So foolish… I saw the centaur boy before he fired but thought nothing of it. It wasn't until the arrow pierced my chest that I actually looked at him. His grin… *shudders* I must have screamed when I was hit for the boy took off and Mhar came running. Her growing druidic powers saved me although we didn't know that's what it was at the time.

Mhar got us home and went straight to father. He tried to rally our tribe, he really did, but mother spoke against him yet again and our tribe, fools that they were, followed her council. Thankfully some of those who respected father kept their weapons near that night. They alone allowed the rest of us to escape. Their lives were traded for ours. The long nights we traveled and the days that followed are mostly blended into one memory. After the third tribe that had taken us in was attacked and forced to flee the elders decided they would start hiding calves.

The next few moons were spent in terror for Mhar and me. We were so afraid that the lots would choose us. They sent those chosen in different directions hoping they would find hiding places safe from the centaurs. The fights between mother and father got to be too much. She told us that she had found a mighty warrior willing to keep us safe. She was so angry when Mhar turned her back on her and walked away.

That was the last day father listened and obeyed the council. After that they sent out the calves and each morning a centaur ran up to return their heads to us. *shudders* The first time the centaurs dropped of the bag containing our tribesmates heads the elders were stupid enough to open it in front of everyone. I was terrified when I saw my yearmates heads, so terrified that I tried to run away. Thankfully father found me before I got too far.

It was during the third moon after the first attack when the elders decreed that the remaining warriors would take the few calves left and try to get them to safety with one of the untouched tribes. We all gathered in the center of the camp. Mhar and I stayed by our father. Mother came up and told us to join the other calves… *sighs* I remember the look of anger on father's face and the look of disgust on Mhar's. Mhar took one step toward our mother and spoke. She said "You left us to feed your own lusts and protect your own hide. I do not follow you elder and ask me not to obey again for my mother is dead."

We were the only calves that were not with that group. They set out after dark and the next morning… *looks down at her hands* the next morning the centaurs brought their heads back to us. Mhar and I were the only calves left. We fled that day, running hard, trying to make safety and we found the Bloodhoof tribe. We made our stand with them that moon. For two counts of seven suns they fought. Mhar and I tended the wounded, trying to get the warriors back on their feet as soon as possible.

It was there that Mhar's druidic gift burst into full life. There she healed and healed, stopping only for food and drink, catching but a few hours sleep each day. It was also there that she found others like her. The Runetotem tribe had several with the druidic ability. The druidic gift had been a part of their tribe for as long as they could remember and they thought it was merely a healing gift granted by the Earthmother. She was accepted into their ranks quickly, almost like she had been born to them and father watched with pride.

My aid was not quite so glorious. I cooked and cleaned the camp, made bandages, and just ran around trying to make things easier for the healers. Two counts of seven suns we stayed there and then one evening father told me to gather our stuff and told Mhar to sleep. He headed for the Bloodhoof's chief. Later that night he returned and led us from the camp.

We traveled for a few hours and just before dawn came to a stream. Father found an animal den on the bank of the stream and demanded we get in. It was hard for us to squeeze into the den but somehow we managed. He told us to stay there as long as we could and covered the entrance with branches. I was closest to the entrance and could still see out through the boughs. Father quickly got rid of any tracks leading to the den and then turned to leave.

I never saw the arrow that killed him but I could hear it fly through the air. I could hear the grunt that came from father when it hit and I watched his body as it fell across the boughs hiding the entrance. The Earthmother willed those boughs to hold, of that I have no doubt, and they held and the bank seemed whole. They had hyenas with them. I could no longer see out but I could hear them sniffing trying to find us. The Earthmother willed that they fail to find our scent and the centaurs went splashing off through the stream still looking for us.

We stayed in that den for three suns without food and with very little water. Then came the footsteps. The sound of someone muttering in a strange language and our fathers body began to move. The strange creature's eyes widened as the boughs moved with fathers body and we came into view. I later learned that the creature who had found us was a troll, a warrior to be exact. She brought us back to the Bloodhoofs and there we found that the centaurs had been defeated and driven out and the last of our people had fallen in battle. We were all that remained.

She stayed behind at the camp with us when the High Chief led our remaining warriors to battle for the one known as Thrall. She stayed with us and we stayed with the remaining tribes for the next two cycles. Many moons after the High Chief had left he returned with other strange creatures… Humans, Dwarves, Gnomes and the Kaldorei or Night Elves as they were called. One among the elves was a druid named Malfurion Stormrage. He taught the Runetotems to use their druidic gifts and they taught Mhar.

We were safe and free. We, the last of the Stonehorn. *pulls her armor back on and sighs* Some people say you don't just smell blood but taste it in the air and they're right. My father's blood I still taste to this day, four cycles after his death.

Recorded for;

Rhyia Swifthoof, Skinner and Leatherworker, Mistress of the Hunt, Tribe Stonehorn

By;

Grajaad Softhand, Tailor and Enchanter, Lorekeeper of Stonehorn


	5. Of Rhyia 2

At that point I was not yet satisfied. I was named Lorekeeper and strove to find the stories. One could say I failed. Or perhaps some are just not for the eyes of those outside the tribe. Either way Rhyia would give me another tale.

* * *

My Grajaad, why do you insist on pestering me? The rest of the tale? Fine! Sit down and take out your papers. Lets see...

The troll that had found us was named Fearia. She's long since passed from this world though. We wandered the plains of Mulgore with her. Two cycles passed while we were with her and then she decided it was time for us to be trained.

For Mhar the choice was obvious. For me on the other hand it was not so obvious. Yet despite the fact that I had not chosen a path when the Tauren asked me what I wished to learn I had but one answer. Hunter...

There is not much to tell after that. I did well in my training and was sent off during my tenth hunt to see if I could find a partner to tame. For a time I had one of the great male lions of the barrens. We refer to them as Highmanes. He stayed with me until my Sixteenth hunt.

Whats what Graj? A hunt? Some of us use it to descibe the time we spend between visits to the trainers. Mhar refers to those times as Dreamtimes. Others use the term seasons. There are other terms for it as well. But back to the story.

When I reached my sixteenth hunt I heard tales about a white male lion and was eager to track him down and tame him. There are beasts in this world that stay hidden so well that you only see one of them at a time. The white lion is one of those. Only one ventures out of their hiding spot at a time. The orcs in Crossroads make a special horn that calls one of them into the open. I have no doubt there is magic in those horns. When you call out the lion he is so enraged that he will attack if you are within range of his senses. I had fortunately gotten out of his range before he sensed me.

Using all my meager knowledge of animals I began my approach. He sensed me at once and attacked. I was overwhelmed and prayed to the earthmother that he would stop attacking before I died. The fact that I wasn't fighting back must have gotten to him because he stopped attacking me and started sniffing around my belt pouch. I rolled over very slowly and reached into that pouch for some meat that I had stored there. Immediately he went for the meat. After he had finished it he just sat there. I decided to leave before he attacked again and to my suprised he followed me. He remained my partner for four hunts before I heard of the white leopards in the Dwarven lands.

It was in my Twentyith hunt that I gave HeartsEase to the stable masters. I then journeyed to the Dwarven lands in search of the white leopards. They were easy to find and much more trusting of me than Heart was. I simply laid a trail of meat along ones hunting path and sat at the end of the trail waiting to see if it would come. He came alright. After eating the last piece of meat in the snow he leapt on me biting and clawing. Being so young he did little damage. He did manage to rip open my belt pouch and get the meat in there... Yes Graj, I know I should stop carrying meat there but its so convienient. Anyways after he ate the meat he just sat there purring at me. *smiles* Fadryth has been with me since then. A total of sixteen hunts. I fear he may be getting a bit old though. Only time will tell.

Thats it. End of tale. Brings you up to where I am now. Whats that Graj? There has to be more you say? Can't think of anything else. Let me read that. *reads the story written on the paper before giving it back to Grajaad* It seems I did miss something. I left out Bonesnap. Who's Bonesnap you ask? He's friend. A good friend.

I can't even remember when we met or even where. Its been too long but when I met him I instantly liked him. A warrior with a very kind heart. My feelings only got stronger over time. We were becoming close when another walked into his life. From the moment he saw her he was lost to me. I hear from him every once in a while. Last I heard of him was the day he confessed loving Mhar. Don't look so suprised Graj. I hold nothing against her. She is just the type of person you like or hate. *sighs*

That is the last of it. I just travel around hunting now. Speaking of which, it is time I got back to my hunting. Hunt well Graj and go badger someone else for a tale. *smiles and walks away*

Recorded for;

Rhyia Swifthoof, Skinner and Leatherworker, Mistress of the Hunt, Tribe Stonehorn

By;

Grajaad Softhand, Tailor and Enchanter, Lorekeeper of Stonehorn


	6. Of Mharin

Oh Mharin, Beloved Chieftess and light in the dark. My how you had fallen. What darkness ailed you so badly that this was your answer. Why did you not come to me? So much pain was caused by this one act. Pain that drove you further into your darkness. But now I look upon you as I sit in Dalaran. You wear yet another form. This one may have fangs and claws rather then horns and hooves but at the core you are still Mharin. We all sense it. Perhaps you will tell me why you watch and just what your purpose is wearing a form allied to the golden Lion.

* * *

The wind was whipping through their hair. It wasn't a warm wind but one with a strange chill. Rhyia sighed.

"It really is a beautiful view isn't it Mhar." Looking over at her younger sister she frowned. "You're still going to do it aren't you?"

Mharin nodded. "I feel so cold Rhy. All the time now. Its just too much." She let her hand stroke Rhy's companions head. "Have you thought of a name yet?"

"Nothing I can think of suits him." She looked down at her white tiger. He hadn't even reached full maturity yet. There was a ganglyness about him. "It will come with time... They'll miss you you know."

"I know. Its not enough to keep me going though. Having Paz disappear like that was the last straw." Mharin walked slowly to the edge of the cliff. "You're right Rhy. It really is a beautiful view." She gazed out over Feralas. How fortunate She had found that elf down below. Although she didn't think the female was really an elf. Probally a member of one of the dragonflights. They were showing up everywhere these days. She turned her head to her older sister. "Are you angry?"

Rhyia joined Mharin at the edge pulling her younger sister into her arms. "Never Mhar. I could never be angry. I understand your choice little calf." She nuzzled her sisters cheek. "I will care for them in your stead Mhar. Know that and let yourself be at peace."

Mharin looked into her sisters eyes. She could see the grief but also the understanding. Yes Rhy would understand what the others could not. Their twin bond was strong enough to let her know the exact things she was feeling at this moment. She smiled. Pulling out of her sisters arms she climbed the rocks along the top of the waterfall. She looked at her sister one last time. "Name him Paz." Then with a short run and a jump she was over the edge. Closing her eyes she knew no more.

Rhyia climbed up onto the rocks her sister had jumped from and peered through the mist. She couldn't see any sign of Mhar. Calling on her abilities of mimicing creatures of the wild, she cast her sight down into the mist. There. There she was curled up on a ledge. She looked asleep. All of a sudden Rhy saw something moving through the mist. She put more energy into her sighting. It was dragonkin. As they came closer she could see the light glinting off their scales. Their green scales. Mhar had told her their were some of Ysera's children here but she had let it slip her mind. They gathered around Mhar's body. The largest stepped forward and scooped Mhar into his arms. What were they doing. Couldn't they just leave her in peace? They began to leave. Following the one carrying Mhars body they began disappearing into the mist. One of the smallest stepped forward though and looked up as if she could see Rhy. The dragonkin smiled and then bowed down before turning and following her fellows into the mist and at that moment Rhy knew why they had come. They were simply taking her body home... Her soul home to Ysera. Returning to her normal vision she sighed.

"Goodbye Mhar." She turned and pulled out her hearthstone. It was time to visit the arch druid in Thunderbluff. He would want to know of Mhar's passing. "Lets go Paz." She chuckled and activated her hearthstone. As she vanished somewhere in the Emerald Dream, at the side of a great green dragon, a druid smiled.


	7. Of Mharin 2

After Mhar's death we tried to understand. It was then that I was called by her sister. Rhyia asked me if I had scribed the story of her sister. It was then that we realized I had not. More the fool I. Instead Rhyia took it upon herself to write what she could recall. Perhaps some day Mhar will give us the story in her own words.

* * *

There are some thing in this world that you never forget. Things that haunt you whereever you go. The scent of my fathers blood is one. The other, the other is the emptyness in my sisters eyes before she died. Mhar had hoped to see the Stonehorn reborn once more. She had tried so hard to bring us to glory once more and in the end... She failed. Was it that failure that tore her soul from her eyes? Maybe. I however think it had more to do with loss. There is only so much that we can endure and Mhar reached her limit too soon. Perhaps her story will tell us why.

Mhar loved exploring. She was always trying to find something new. Always looking to learn about new things. While we were calves she delighted in finding herbs and animals. She was always bringing something back to the camp to find out what it was. And once she learned her face would light up and she'd break into a huge smile. She was so carefree as a child. She never knew danger, never understood loss. Pain was just something mild that happened every now and again. From the time she could walk she was usually found tailing the Wiseones of our tribe. They loved her you see. Adored her. They were the first to offer her answers. The first to see to her needs and whims. To them Mhar was as the Earthmothers own chosen.

Mhar never knew what it was like to crave attention. Never knew what it was like to feel lonely. Though mother never did like her bringing things to our tent even she doted on Mhar. Father was the only one who didn't spoil Mhar. To him we were both his children and deserved the same amount of attention. As Mhar got older she would be seen in father's company more and more often. Constant attention can get overwhelming at times I suppose and it must have been nice to have someone treat you normal.

As Mhar got older we began to notice unusual things about her. How she could heal with a touch. How the plants and animals seemed to seek her out. Thorns would slide along her skin without harm only to pierce deep into my flesh. To the tribe it was yet another sign of the Earthmothers favor. Yet another reason for them to raise her above the others. Was I jealous of my sister? No. It was imposible to be jealous of her. Mhar was too kind, too sweet. My baby sister. Our pride and joy and the one who kept me in one piece.

Then came the centaur. Perhaps if father and I had convinced Mhar to speak against them it would have been different but we never thought to use her to achieve our own ends even if it was for the good of the tribe. So the centaur came bearing promises of peace and our people believed them. They used to shoot arrows at me you know, and Mhar would put me back together each and every time. The day before they turned on us openly is one I will never forget. That day Mhar's druidic gift blossomed showing but a glimpse of the healing gift she would one day wield. We had been gathering herbs and I wandered too close to the forest. The centaur's chief's son was there you see and he planted an arrow deep into my chest. I don't know whether I screamed or it was just our bond as twins, but Mhar came running and there, by the edge of the forest, she healed me. Healed a wound that should have killed me. We returned home that night and told our parents what had happened. Father's face became grim and he layed out his weapons. Mother on the other hand was sure it was an accident and told us she would speak with the chief in the morning. They attacked that night and our world changed.

When they attacked Mhar's faith in mother was badly shaken. The woman who had given us life had also allowed it to be destroyed. Mhar didn't see the warriors and hunters who had listened to father fall. She was spared the sight of their mangled and broken bodies as we ran out into the night running from those that had been our allies. Though her faith was shaken the loss had not been felt.

For three moons our tribe fled seeking refuge with others only to have the centaur decend time and time again slaughtering those who had taken us in. By the end of the first moon the fighting between mother and father had gotten bad enough that it hurt Mhars delicate feelings. For a calf as sheltered as she it must have seemed as though the world was ending and in many ways it did. Halfway into the second moon mother left us to live with a warrior of the Bloodmoon tribe. She wanted to take us with her but out of shock and anger Mhar turned her back on her and walked away with me and father following. That was the first night she cried herself to sleep. In fact she cried every night until the third moon after the attack. Nothing father or I could do would help so we stayed close to her and offered what support we could.

The third moon though affected her very severely. When the elders decided to send all of the calves off to try and save them Mhar was rendered speechless. Her tears and sobs were stilled and in the morning whenthe elders gathered the calves together she refused to leave fathers side. Mhar found her voice that day and she vowed never to turn her back on her people the way mother had. It would take extreme circumstances to get her to abandon her own and even then it would only happen if it was for the good of the tribe. In the morning our yearmates were dead and the will of the tribe had been broken. We fled that day, running until we found the Bloodhoof and Cairne.

Hamuul Runetotem had known of Mhars coming. The earth had let him know. At that time the druidic way was not yet with us but the Runetotem tribe had the gift in abundance and had learned to train it. Mhar was taken under Hamuul's wing, so to speak, and over the next two counts of seven suns she trained her gifts with him. Over that time Mhar grew quite close to Hamuul seeing him in the way of a child looking at their grandfather. Hamuul's heart was even large enough to include me though I never did forge a bond as strong as his and Mhars.

During our stay with the Bloodhoof Mhar worked herself to exaustion every night. She healed constantly, refusing to stop. I had to practically sit on her and force the food down her throat to keep her in good health. As long as she had energy to heal she would not stop. During the nights she sleep so deeply we could not wake her... But the wounded could. She could sense even in her sleep when someone entered the camp needing her to keep them from death. Her strength in those days were nigh to unmatched and her skills kept warriors from sliding over the edge to join the Earthmother. She alone restored what was left of our warriors spirits. She healed their very souls and sent them forth to fight and fall upon bloody ground and fall they did. Our warriors became fevered with a lust to kill the centaur. That lust kept them fighting long after others would have fallen and their faith in Mhar kept them alive long enough to see her gentle eyes one last time before joining the Earthmother. Not one of our warriors died in the field. All found some last bit of strength just so they could return to die with Mhar watching over them. Mhar never once showed how much pain their deaths caused her. Knowing they had fought and died because she had restored their faith was a heavy burden upon her. She seemed to weather it well but I alone knew exactly how bad she was torn up inside. Through our twin bond her grief and pain was mine as well and it hurt beyond anything I had ever known before.

One night our father bade me gather our things and bade Mhar to sleep then went off to speak with Cairne. When father returned we left the Bloodhoof and travelled a ways away. Father found a animal burrow and there he hid us. Once he had hidden the burrow and erased our tracks centaurs appeared. They felled father after a long fight. One arrow. In the end it only took one arrow. I heard it all with Mhar curled up against me. All the strength she had shown in the past had vanished and what was left for a time was just a young and frightened calf. A few days later and we were still in the burrow when we were found by a troll. She returned us to the camp and there took her place as our new found mother. We stayed at that place with the various tribes as Cairne led the warriors to fight for Thrall. We were still there when they returned with the other races. Shortly after they had returned Hamuul called upon Mhar. Bade her to come learn the ways of the druids and learn she did. Those days helped soothe her heart and heal the wounds left by the war. Two cycles we stayed and trained. She as a druid and me as a hunter. After those two cycles we bade farewell to Greatmother Fearia and left to find our own place in the world.

We did not travel long before going our seperate ways and i'm afraid at that point most of our contact was through occasional letters and feelings through our twin bond. I felt her joy upon finding her first family in the outside world. I felt her pride and happiness as she healed them and I felt her dispair on the day she left. I know not the story of why she left and even if I did it would not be my place to tell but I do know what followed. Mhar formed her own tribe only to leave it after but a short while. When I questioned her about her leaving she would not tell me what caused it, only that her tribe was now for the better. During her short stint as leader of the Stonehorn she found and fell in love with two males. Poor Mhar had the hardest time choosing between them but choose she did in the end and thus was mated. I truly wish that our twin bond did not exist the night of her mating. As it was I drunk myself into a stupor just to ignore the emotions coming through our bond.

Shortly after that night her and her mate found two calves that were without family and took them in to raise as their own. For a time they were happy. Things do not like to remain happy for long though and after she left her tribe, once she had been takin in by another, her mate left her. She never told me of a reason. Just told me that he had said to forget their mating had ever happened and very shortly after that her daughter died. Her son she had lost contact with for he had followed her mate. That left a void so great that the feeling of it caused me to run and hide in the wilderness. I stayed there for quite some time with only my companion Fadryth to keep me company.

Mhar survived that loss for one reason and one reason alone. A forsaken, leader of the tribe that had taken her in, watched over her constantly. Attempting to heal what little was left. For a time it worked and Mhar was content. She still had that void within her though and at times it tried to surface only to be locked away once more. Things were well until he disappeared. His loss tore what little was left of her spirit and cast it to the winds. She tried for a couple of moons to stay and wait for his return but in the end the dispair overwhelmed her and she was left empty. That was when she called me home. She bade me travel with her into Feralas. Showed me the view from the top of one of the mountains they call the Twin Colossus. I didn't know what she was planing until we were up there. Looking into her eyes that day I saw nothing. No sign of the woman that had been born my sister. Her eyes were empty and dead. I knew then what she had planned to do and I... I forgave her for leaving. I could not blame her for destroying the shell of what had once been my sister. There we embraced one last time and there I held the memory of her close to myself. A memory to keep for the rest of my time. The memory of the sister that was gone.

* * *

Rhyia lowered the quill. She had finally finished detailing what she had known of Mhars life. She placed the page with the others Grajaad had written. The history of Stonehorn... What was left of it anyways. She picked up the slab of wood carved with various designs. Running her finger over the top she closed her eyes for a moment in sorrow as her hand passed over a fresh carving. The carving that told those who knew how to read it that Mharin, Chieftess of Stonehorn, was dead. Then she let her finger slide to the other fresh carving or rather the fresh additions to an old carving. The one that declared her the new chieftess. With a sigh she opened her eyes and placed the wood over the pages. Quickly nicking her finger she smeared a drop of blood on the stone nestled in the center of all the carvings. There was a faint glow as the shamanistic magics took hold. Now the book was secured against others eyes. Any who should try to read it would see nothing but a mess of spilled ink. The ancestors of her tribe were bound to keep it from being read by any she had not given permission to. None would know exactly what had happened to cause Mhar to die. She would let them think that Mhar had finally been brought down by some wild creature rather than the dispair inside.

She placed the bundle to one side and rose to her feet. After a stretch she bent down and picked the record up. Hamuul was across the tent. She headed for him.

"Grandfather?" She waited for a response.

"Yes little one." The Arch Druid rose to his feet and smiled at the female before him.

Holding out the book she said but one thing, "It is finished."

Hamuul took the record from her. Looking at her he smiled and then drew her into a hug. "She stands at Ysera's side and there she is safe."

Rhyia nodded before pulling away and heading for the tent flap. She paused before stepping outside. "Goodbye grandfather. I will see you soon. Please keep an eye on Mhara for me." With that she left.

A short while later a young tauren, one on the verge of adulthood, stepped into the tent.

"I've come to say goodbye." The little black tauren smiled at her elder. "I'm going to see the outside world. Mother said I could before she left this time."

"Well in that case," The elder tauren scooped the little one into a big hug, "Have fun little one and be careful. Rhyia will be angry should anything happen to you."

The little tauren smiled and headed for the flap. "Mother always gets angry when something happens to me. I'm used to it now. Bye great grandfather." And off she went into the world.

Hamuul sighed softly. He spoke though there seemed to be nothing there. "Your little seedling is grown Mhar. Let us hope she does well and no one finds out the truth."

And in the Emerald Dream a pure white druid responded to the old ones words.

"I will keep her safe."


	8. Of Mharin 3

It is hard to understand the full effects of the Emerald Dream. Harder still to fully understand what occurs in death upon our world. What little we do know is that the spirit of a person can remain behind. Furthermore it is also possible for it to interact even should it seem gone. In this case all we knew was she had become completely insane and lost in the past. It was the warning that having Ysera call her soul into the dream allowed her to become fully corrupted. It was a warning ignored...

* * *

"Hello Mharin"

The pure white tauren sat astride her kodo, eyes roving the landscape. The was hunting to be done but at this time the ghost of her sister demanded attetion. Rhyia sighed. Mharin had become so annoying since she had been corrupted by the nightmare. She was always using their twin bond to come forth. Still eager to serve her guildmates but with a mind now twisted and fragmented.

~Can I shoot something Rhy? Pretty please?~

"No. The last time I let you shoot something you almost got us killed. Honestly Mhar, you make a lousy hunter."

The spirit in her mind pouted. She was doing that alot lately. Angry that Rhy was staying in control. The Induction of Xozin through blood bond had lessened the spirits hold. Perhaps it would be enough to keep Mhar at bay. Rhyia doubted it though. Mhar's magics had opened the gates wide when she was still alive and she took advantage of that fact ruthlessly. Normally it would have been a peaceful coexistence but with Mhar's mind fragmented, insanity was threatening.

~We should go home Rhy. Lord Dark will be waiting. He needs me to heal~

With a sigh Rhyia turned her concentration inward once again trying to force some semblance of a timeline on what was left of her sister's mind.

"We don't follow Dark anymore Mhar. You ended that with your scheming remember?"

The spirit drew back for but a second in shock before the memories resurfaced.

~At least I got rid of those traitors. They would have brought him down in the end. How dare they do that to me? I gave them a place, a home, power..~

"Give it up Mhar. Its gone and done with. Stonehorn is allied with the Legion right now. The past doesn't affect us. Besides they betrayed you not Dark"

Rhyia injected as much mirth as possible in that statement. Perhaps if she could get her sister riled up she would withdraw again. It was so tiring constantly fighting to keep Mharin subdued. Her sisters will hadn't dimmed any since her death.

"You know Mhar we could always go back to Dark and beg forgivness. I'm sure he wouldn't mind having a crazy onboard."

The spirit shrieked and sputtered.

~Crazy! Are you calling me a nutcase. Why you little witch. Just you wait i'll see to it that you pay for that~

Rhyia chuckled as Mhar's spirit faded again. Looking down at the great white tiger waiting patiently by her side she smiled.

"Well Paz, best get to work. Graj needs those chanting formulas."

With that she rode off leaving a soft chuckle whispering in the wind.


	9. Of Mharin 4

She came back to try to save us all. Not even the death of her body and the entrance of her spirit into the Dream could keep her from feeling our pain. Her love for us all left no choice but to return and fight for the tribe that had tried to save her. If only we knew the price she would pay in her failure. But how could we know that she would leave what was left of her sanity and loyalty trapped within a gem eternally embedded in _**his **_chair.

* * *

'Its empty'

That was the only thought that crossed her mind as she strode into the hold that had once held Nightmare Legion. Casting her gaze around she could see the furniture in the room gathering dust. Everything, from the dust lingering on surfaces to the faded wall hangings, spoke of the emptiness that now haunted the halls. Dull thuds echoed as her hooves moved across the floor. There were so few left now. Times had changed and her fellows had given up hope. The people who had once graced these halls as family were all gone but for a few.

Her tail swished through the air as she made her way through the room. She came to a stop before the head table. There was his chair. For so long it had been occupied and then he was gone. The dust was thickest there. Memories played through her mind. Images of another time long ago. He had sat there. His presence had filled the hall. Those who entered it did so under his watchful eye. She reached out with a trembling hand. Where had he gone? They had had no warning.

"You said it was only for a week." Her words hung in the air. They rang with sorrow. They rang with challenge. They rang with anger.

It was so unlike him to vanish. He had always been there. He would have never left willingly. No one had been able to find out where he had gone. No one could find him. And in his absence the people dispaired. Gone were the days when he would sit with a smile on his face as he watched their carefree behaviour. Some had tried to stand up. To save what he had made but in the end all that remained were those too stubborn to let go. To stubborn for most but for her? Perhaps it would have been better to say too stupid. When he was lost she had let her dispair take over. She had abandoned her family to fight in the Emerald Dream. The price had been paid. Her sister had not been able to keep things together in her place. Oh she and others had tried but it was like trying to stop a flooding river with twigs.

"I miss you." A single tear traced its way down white fur.

Her hand dropped to the pouch attached to her belt. The item within had cost her dearly. Carefully she withdrew the gem from the pouch. It glowed with an inner fire. There was a peace radiating from it. An understanding. Lifting her free hand she called the hurricane that came with her druidic station. The winds howled throughout the room. She stood calm as the storm did its work. As the wind died down she cast her gaze across the room. The dust was gone. She leaned forward to press the gem against the headrest of the chair. The wood, long since dead, grew new life at her will. Delicate yet strong branches grew to enclose the gem and bound it to its new place atop the chair. She tested the seating of the gem once to ensure it would stay before turning and heading to the door. Pausing in the doorway she let her eyes rove over the room once more. The atmosphere had changed with her cleaning. Where before the room had echoed with emptiness now it seemed to hold a anticipation. The whole area was waiting. Content once again. She smiled one last time before exiting and closing the doors behind her. Taking a deep breath she straightened her shoulders and headed out into the day. There were things to do.

However in the room that had just been cleaned and vacated something new was happening. The chair she had imbedded the gem into slid back. The floor beneath it rose and it stood alone as if on a pedistal behind the high table. And there, in the spot it had once held, nature went to work. Soon there sat a new chair. Its wood was smooth and shimmered with new life. Vines ran in intricate patterns along the back, legs and armrests. The balance had shifted and the hall stood ready for its new master. Yet behind it, raised above all the other furniture stood his chair. The gem on his chair glowed with inner fire and sent out its call.

'We wait for you Pazazu... forever'

And in that moment Mharin, Keeper of Nightmare Legion, knew peace again as the shard containing part of her soul searched for her beloved lord from its new vantage point on his chair.


	10. Of Mharin 5

Mortal spirits were never meant to stay in the Dream forever. They were never meant to enter it without a living form to anchor them to reality. We really should have noticed her madness. Seen her corruption from the dream. We were fools.

* * *

It was quiet in the grove. A bit too quiet if one stopped to think on it. There was a gentle drone of nature but even that was hushed. It was almost as if nature did not want to waken the form that was lying prone on the ground in that grove. Although there was no chance she would wake. The figure's slumber was forced. Her mind held locked deep within by a mind that was even stronger…

At least, it was stronger for now.

This was not the first time since her return that she had been left to lay on the ground. Chances are it would not be the last either. You see, the form lying on the ground in forced slumber, was a druid. To some she was well known, to others, she was known not at all. In the end though it would not matter how well she was still known.

No. All that mattered now were the people gathering around her form. Faces filled with worry and sorrow. Worry, for the druids mind was racked with a growing insanity. Sorrow, for those gathering knew that one day, perhaps soon, they themselves would have to speak the command that would guarantee the druids death forever.

They gathered around the druid's form, surrounding her, preparing for another attempt at purging the insanity that corrupted the druid. The slight breeze stilled as one last figure entered the clearing.

Even now the approaching priest still had her beauty. It was not the beauty that drove men mad. Instead it was just the quiet beauty some preferred. Smooth flawless skin, a cherry tint to her lips. In fact many would have taken her for a living human even though she had long since left life behind.

As she got closer it slowly became more apparent that her skin held a greenish tint to it as well. A tint associated with only one thing, the plague. Indeed, it was noticeable as she drew near that she was in truth an undead. To some she was a pale mockery of a human woman, a monster to be destroyed. Those in the clearing however, knew her as so much more. She was the tribe's Lorekeeper. And she had been the one to bring the druid to rest again.

Grajaad seemed calm. Then again she usually appeared that way. Of those in the clearing only three knew how worried she was. The warlock, the hunter and Grajaad's warrior mate. Those three alone knew how much of a struggle it had been to control the druid this time. They alone knew how close to escaping Mharin had been.

The Lorekeeper's power rippled out over those gathered in the grove. One collapsed, joining the druid in slumber. Grajaad grinned slightly. She had placed his mind within. There were things that he could not know. So she made him sleep. He would not remember anything when he awoke. Already sporelings had gathered and were carting his body off to the refuge where he would awake. She had defended the race of Sporregars often enough to earn a bit more then just their courtesy. That was the only reason they carted off the male locked in slumber at her request.

Now however it was time to get down to business. There was still the matter of the druid on the ground. Her form shimmered slightly as she fed the information into the minds of those standing there awake.

'She snapped again. This time she attacked our Warmaster. There is no doubt that the insanity is worsening. What is worse is that she is getting stronger and it is happening far to fast. In fact the worsening of her insanity is tied in directly to her increasing strength. Soon even I will not be able to lay her mind low. There is no other recourse to us. For the good of Stonehorn, Mharin must be keep leashed. And for that I must turn to outsiders. The good of the tribe demands it.'

The feeling of sorrow magnified, to lose her again so soon, and to the insanity caused by the Darkness within the Dream. It was upsetting beyond belief for those still in the clearing.

The huntress spoke softly. "Long have I worried that the time would come when my sister would lose herself to this madness. Even so I do not wish to lose her just yet. Must she be killed or is there something else we can do to control her?"

Marthok shook her head even as the clawed hand of her voidwalker, Mezzthak, came to rest on her shoulder. "She is insane not a demon thus I cannot control her at all. I am sorry Rhyia. I cannot even offer to grant her soul safety within my shards. She is too strong for me to drain."

"And all I can offer her is death…" The warrior looked away. Even though the druid had tried to kill him he did not wish this grief on his tribe.

Grajaad's mind thundered again into theirs. 'It is not yet time for death. I have found another way. But you will not like it in the least. Not now, not in years to come. Nor may you question me on this. Rhyia.. Chieftess… Your choice is demanded now. I await your command. Death or worse?'

Rhyia took a deep breath. Her eyes wandered over the still form of her sister before looking at each of her tribemates in turn. In truth there was no choice. She knew what her sister would have chosen before her insanity. But even now she could not speak the words to send her sister on the journey into death once more. But the tribe must be protected at all costs. In the end there was only one choice she could make and one command to give.

"Marthok, Xozin, accompany me from this place. Graj…." The tauren female took a deep breath. "Lorekeeper do as you will to end the threat to my tribe. See to it that she does not threaten us again."

Rhyia strode out of the clearing without a backward glance. Marthok followed immediately but Xozin remained for a moment staring at Grajaad in shock until..

"Xozin! Come now!" Rhyia's voice drifted back along the breeze and he hurried to follow.

Grajaad took a deep breath and kneeled down by the prone druid as she waited for the others to get far enough away. Then she called out.

"They are gone. You may join me now."

The leaves rustled softly as two figures stepped out. One was Forsaken and grinning crookedly, the other was Kaldorei and wore a slight frown. The elf was clearly the stronger of the two and obviously did not like what was happening one bit. Graj brushed some hair back from the druid's face before speaking again.

"It has come to my attention that you are a hunter who enjoys the company of the wild beasts and can control them extremely well."

The elf nodded once. "That however is no beast!" She pointed to the druid lying on the ground. "I'm not blind undead, nor am I stupid. The goblins stated that you had a beast in need of taming yet I see no beast here at all. Unless you mean him," She glared at the male undead, "In which case I won't bother taming I'll just kill."

The male giggled crazily at the elf's statement. "I'd be more then willing to tame you though. Such a pretty lunch." He drooled just a bit as he looked at her lavender form.

Grajaad smiled amusedly. "Now Chrynus that is no way to treat our guest, IF you want to live past tonight." She sighed slightly. "What we have here is indeed no beast. At least she is not a beast normally. However as of late she has been growing insane. She has become a danger. We do not wish her killed though. She is too dear to us for us to let her go."

The elf shifted. "So what am I supposed to do. I deal with beasts not Taurens."

"What you will do is tame her. You see, she is a druid. Whenever she starts to loose control she will be locked into an animal form. When she is like that you will be able to control her as you are the stronger. She will be a problematic beast. In many ways your greatest challenge. You must hunt and hold her under your control when she is locked in beast form until I can realign her mind. Unless you are not up to the task?"

The elf smirked. "I can control her in beast form all right. That is as long as you keep her locked as a beast. She reverts to her Tauren form and my control is gone."

The priest nodded. "That is what he is for. If nothing else he will stay alive long enough to keep her distracted should she slip your control while her insanity is in control. After all Chrynus has pissed her off more then enough the past while that it will not matter that this undead only is his form and not his mind or soul. We are agreed then?"

The Kaldorei hunter nodded once and stood quietly as the darker powers of the priest bound her to the agreement. All she noticed though was the slightly insane giggling of the undead body that the priest had named Chrynus' shell.


End file.
